DWAM: Eroctica
by UncleMeg
Summary: Set after the pepper spraying incident, Pam takes Dwight out for thank-you beers and things get pretty wavy when Dwight starts taking the "knight-in-shining-armor" role a little too seriously. (I wrote this as a writing exercise because i've never wrote a sex scene before so if i made you horny, success!)


DWAM

1.

It had been a week since Dwight pepper-sprayed Roy for attempting to kick Jim's ass and Pam knew that she owed Dwight some kind of thank-you, for the pepper-spray incident and for the comforting-her-while-crying-in-the-hallway incident.

She happened to be in the breakdown, alone, when Dwight came in. She took her chance.

"Hey Dwight."

"Pam." He said, noncommittally as he made his way to the vending machine.

"Hey so, I know heroes don't accept thank yous for doing heroic," Pam said, "But do they accept free beer?"

"Hm. That's an interesting question Pam. Superheroes don't tend to drink I've noticed. But Vikings and knights were big drinkers and while I'm not certain they didn't accept beer as a thank you I'm also not certain they wouldn't turn down a free beer from the royal figures they saved…"

"Dwight," Pam interrupted, annoyed. "Do you wanna get drinks tonight?"

He turned his head over his shoulder and scrutinized her, almost distrustfully. Then, a moment later, he said, "Sure."

"Okay. Poor Richard's then. After work?"

"I have to feed the cattle and make Moses his dinner. Make it 7."

Pam cursed internally, for she didn't want to be out that late tonight. She had a lot of data storage to delete off of his TIVO that she wanted to get done tonight, but then the polite part of her spoke up and said, "7 it is."

2.

Pam just ordered herself a beer when Dwight came in, his duster jacket billowing behind him like a comic book anti-hero. He plopped down beside her. Pam looked down at her watch to catch the little hand move to signify 7 o'clock.

"Wow, great timing. I just got here myself."

"I know. I was in the parking lot for 10 minutes waiting for you to go inside first."

"Why didn't you just come inside and wait?"

Dwight snorted. "C'mon Pam. Only losers do that." A bartender came over and Dwight gave him his order, then gestured to Pam and said, "Put it on her tab." When the bartender left, Dwight looked around the bar and remarked, "Wow this place is packed." It was the exact opposite of packed. Aside from them and the staff, there was 2 other people within the entire establishment.

"Yeah," said Pam, jokingly. "I'm shocked the fire marshal isn't here to shut the place down."

"Fire marshals don't shut places down, Pam." Dwight said. "They give out fines. Then they shut places down if the corrections aren't made."

They fell into a silence, which didn't end until the bartender gave Dwight his drink, to which Dwight broke by asking, "So…how is your menstrual cycle? I hope the cramps are mild and the blood flow is regular."

"What?" Pam blurted out, offended. Then she remembered last week, when Dwight found her crying over Jim. "Oh…yeah. It's fine."

"Good."

They took turns drinking in awkward silence, when Dwight broke it again by saying, "I heard bananas are great for—"

"Yeah we're not talking about this." Pam cut him off.

"I thought this is what you women did when you went out with your friends." He said.

"Dwight, I don't know how to tell you this but," Pam leaned in and whispered, "You aren't a woman."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Captain Gender-Pointer-Outer."

Pam laughed in spite of herself. While she took another sip, Dwight asked her in a serious tone, "So what do friends, of opposite sexes, talk about?"

The sincerity in his voice made her heart soften. "You…you think of me a friend?"

"Duh. I mean, I know you're in love with my arch-enemy and all, and even though I find your taste in mates highly suspect, I still think you're think the coolest person in the whole office. Second to Michael and myself."

Pam balked but played it off as a mildly shocked laugh. "'In love with your arch-enemy'. Ha. Dwight, you're taking this knight-in-shining-armor roll a little too ser…" Before she could finish, Dwight pulled his face in to hers and asked, dead serious, "Do you deny your feelings for Jim?"

"Yes." She said with her best poker face.

"Good," he said moving back into his rigid seating position. "I'm glad to hear that. You could do a lot better."

"You think so?"

"Better than Jim?" Dwight scoffed. "Oh yeah. He's got a weird nose anyway. And a weird face. His face looks like a peeled potato. Plus, the guy's got, like, two interests: Pulling dumb pranks and dating semi-attractive women."

"Hey I like pranks too." Pam said defensively. "And, I think Karen is very pretty."

"You would." Dwight said, derisively. "I'll give you this though: You like other things besides pranks."

"Like what?"

"Art. And…being nice."

"Being nice isn't an interest." Pam replied, as she downed the last of her beer.

"Yeah…well…it's a skill, at least." Dwight offered. "It's one of the very few skills I don't have."

"For the record," Pam said once she put her empty beer bottle door. "I think you could do better too."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Dwight replied, tilting his bottle backwards off-handedly as if he wasn't purposely trying to avoid Pam's knowable stares.

"Seriously, I mean, if you wanna talk smack about Angela I can go all—"

"We're not talking about this."

"Okay." Pam said. "What did you wanna talk about then?"

Just then, bartender came back and gave them the nod that signified, want more? Pam looked at Dwight who gave her a shrug. Feeling fuzzy from her brain cells slowly dying, Pam asked him for two more.

3.

Two beers led to 4 more beers which eventually led to a pitcher, which became accompanied by Tequila shots and a heaping pile of mozzarella sticks and French fries. At one point Pam was laughing so hard she threw her entire head down and that's when she caught sight of her watch and saw it was well past 7 o'clock.

"Shit," she slurred. "It's almost 1. And I'm still drunk."

"G-give me your keez." Dwight demanded. "I'm not ledding you drive."

"I'm not letting either of you drive," announced the bartender who's ear was already bent into the receiver of a phone. "I'm calling you a cab." While they spoke to the dispatcher, the bartender asked both of them, "They wanna know where they're dropping you off."

Both of them were so bombed it took them a full 5 seconds to remember their own addresses. Finally, Pam was the first to remember her own address and gave it to the bartender, excited at her mental keenness. They were so giddy and dumb from inebriation, neither of them realized that Pam invited Dwight back to her place.

4.

"Wow!" Dwight exclaimed, once Pam's front door was opened and the two of them emerged into her living room. "Pamelalalala! I love this place!"

There was nothing to 'wow' about: It was a simple one bedroom with a pale pink living room that split evenly into the kitchen, where a pile of dishes awaited her. Beyond that was a meager balcony where some hanging posies slept.

"Welcome to my castle, sir knight!" Pam announced, in her best medieval queen accent. "I trust everything is to your liking."

"Well, if I were to be honest, my queen, I expected more art work on your majesty's walls. Where are all the tapestries? All the portraits? Where all the stain glass windows?"

"I'm working on it." Pam said, breaking back into her own voice as she walked ahead into the kitchen. "I just moved in. I still haven't had time to unpack." Dwight continued to marvel at her place while she rummaged through her refrigerator. "Oh score!" She straightened up to reveal in her hands a plastic container of leftovers. She grabbed two forks from the sink and held one out for him. "Dwight, you want in?" She held out her arm for him. Dwight sauntered over, his hips swaying slightly, his gaze focused entirely on hers, like a thirsty cowboy walking towards a saloon. She thought, for one brief mad moment, that he was going to stride over and plant one long, hard kiss on her lips.

But Dwight stopped just a step before her. Then, her knelt in front of her, head bowed with his chin touching the back of his hand, as if he was waiting for her to knight him.

Pam laughed, but she was playful to keep the game going. "What are you doing, Sir Knight?" She asked, in the queen accent.

"Your Majesty," Dwight began his voice suddenly husky, "I don't know if I have the right to ask this of you…"

"Speak your mind and be bold, Sir Dwight."

He tossed his head back and when he met her gaze, she was intrigued to see a mischievous smile on his thin lips. "If it pleases the Queen, I would like to perform cunninglingus on her."

She burst out laughing, thinking this was still apart of the knight and queen game. Until she realized, only Dwight would seduce someone with the word 'cunninglingus'. Pam stood there for a second, unsure of what was happening. "Proceed."

Without hesitation, he lifted her skirt above his head and disappeared in-between her legs. All she felt afterwards were tender kisses against her clothed labia. Her eyelids fluttered shut as he continued to kiss, and eventually stroke, her underweared pussy. Her mind went blank the longer he went, until she found her back pressed into the cool skin of the refrigerator, making her moan out involuntarily. As if waiting for the cue, that's when Pam felt Dwight's stubby hands yank down her panties and shove, what felt like, his entire tongue in-between her hairy lips.

She couldn't remember the last time someone ate her out, let alone with such vigor. She would've crash into the floor, her legs were so wobbly from pleasure but she didn't want him to stop. She even told him so, verbally and physically when she grabbed him by the head and shoved him closer into herself. Selfish desire made her more assertive which, in turn, excited Dwight. He grabbed her by the thighs the harder he shoved his face in-between. Pam's body jerked with pleasure which caused some cereal boxes that were on top of the refrigerator to tumble over in the process but neither of them cared.

Dear Dwight, staying true to his nature, gave eating pussy his 100 percent and in no time did Pam's insides melt onto him. Wave after wave of pleasure came over her, changing her into someone covetous, aggressive and animalistic. She used her palm to push Dwight's forward out from her skirt. He slide backwards onto the linoleum floor with his glasses askew and his mouth wet and wide with a smug bastard's grin.

They pawed at their own clothes like they were aflame without losing the other's gaze. Dwight's eyes scanning over her entire body with an explorer's fascination; Pam gave his erection a cursory glance then sought his lecherous face. "Good for you," she grinned. Dwight made a guttural laugh, full of arrogance. She lunged at him the second her bra unhooked and for a few moments, they were all mouths. Hungry, slobbering maws mashing into another, more tongue than lips, rubbing into each other like two amoebas trying to fuse back into one.

Pam pushed him onto his back. Dwight tried to raise himself but Pam sat on his dick before he could. She was so wet she slide right in. Her shoulders went cold then hot.

"Hey, the man's supposed to be on top." Dwight protested, half-heartedly.

"Shut up, Dwight." Pam said, hands on his shoulders, her pelvis gyrating forward then backwards. She gasped every other motion. Her entire body was tingling. She was certain his dick was fucking one of her kidneys but wow—did she enjoy fucking it—fucking him.

"Oh god," she uttered, feeling herself about to burst.

"Yeah," Dwight moaned, his arms folded behind his head as he allowed himself to witness her ecstasy. His voice was saturated with self-satisfaction. "You like that?"

She felt a shudder run across her insides. She rode him harder. "Yeah." She squealed.

"Yeah?" He demanded, lifting himself up slightly, peering into her face, waiting to see what her orgasm face looked like.

"Yeah!" She exclaimed, as she rode him faster and harder, before finally reaching that climax and her entire body went from a brilliant warm to a soothing cold. For a second, she panted on top of him, dizzy, tired, and satisfied.

"Good," said Dwight, as he pushed her torso down and raised a huge, hairy pale leg above her.

"Wait!" She cried, sitting up fast, her voice no longer husky from delight.

Dwight stopped moving.

"This… _this is crazy_ ," she panted. "We're rutting on the floor…like a couple of animals."

"I know!" Dwight rumbled, deviously.

"No…no, what I mean is—I have a huge bed. Just waiting to be broken in."

Dwight's entire face beamed with desire as he stood from the floor. His dick pointed out in front of him like a sun dial. "Lead the way, my queen." He murmured, delightfully as he helped a giggling Pam off of the ground.

"I love that, by the way," said Pam as she led them into the bedroom. When Dwight went through the door, she used her back to slam it shut. She stared at him longingly as he straddled the ledge of her mattress and said, "Keep doing that."

"Your simplest of whims is my life's purpose," Dwight whispered sensually.

Without breaking his gaze, Pam did her best model walk over to him, making sure her head was back, her legs were straightened and her chest was out. When she made it to him, she climbed onto his lap slowly, positioning herself entirely on his still hard cock. She wrapped her arms around his neck then leaned in and kissed him, hard. They made out for a full minute, only this time slower and with only their lips, except for at the end when Pam nibbled on his bottom lip in an attempt to make him groan. And he did. But he also one-upped her lip bite by bending his head forward and covering her right nipple with his entire mouth. Her back arched involuntarily to the point where she almost fell off of him, but Dwight caught her without a pause. His arms wrapped into her backside as he continued to suck on her chest.

Just as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, she felt Dwight stand up and carry her, all of her, from the edge of the bed to top with ease.

"Wow," she said, giddy as the school girl Pam who once imagined a similar scenario in her younger years. "I forget how strong a knight can be." He let her down with a bounce and as he stood over her for a brief second, scanning over her nakedness, she searched over his own. Although she found his greasy badly cut hair, his pale paunch, his man-baby-faced face, standing with his hands on his hips behind the moonlight, she thought him a heartthrob.

"Well, you know, my queen, I was raised on a farm." Dwight said playfully as he crawled into the open space beside her.

"You were?" She asked, feigning incredulity.

"Tis true. I twas raised on a beet farm, which is where I became the brawny alpha man you see before you." Dwight explained, ending his sentence by flexing both of his arms.

"Ooh," she cooed. "An alpha male, you say. Well you must know how to fuck a lady."

"I do."

"Then show me."

Dwight smiled for that was all he wanted to hear. He got to his knees then told her to do the same. Pam obliged with her ass facing towards him. She felt Dwight come from behind her, give her propped pussy a few generous licks, which she was shudderingly grateful for, and slammed himself into her backside. From there, it was a jack-hammering of thrusts. The sound of their bodies colliding into each other sounded like a giant's applause. Dwight did not subside in movements for several, glorious minutes. He was unrelenting. He fucked her guts like he hated them and Pam couldn't stop herself from screaming in delight. Something she'd never done before. Not with Roy, whom sex with was always short and quiet and inconveniencing. This was nothing like with Roy. It was nothing like how she imagined it was with Jim, where in her mind it was all love-making and I love yous and Wow, you're beautiful. Wow, why am I thinking of Jim? She asked herself as she felt the springs in the bed give into a double bounce and caused her wrists to become useless, sending her upper body into the bed, with an unstoppable Dwight crashing down onto her.

Pam pushed her ass into him and they rocked back and forth into each other, one trying desperately to out-fuck the other. Pam managed to roll Dwight onto his back, her back into his chest. She was staring at the ceiling when she felt Dwight's dick grind into her, his pelvis shooting up and down so fast she was almost bouncing. She used her thighs to bulwark him, her legs spread open but her feet laid flat into the mattress and she felt Dwight lift his own pelvis up so he could continue to fuck her, the two of them almost hovering. Pam turned her head, hoping to find Dwight's mouth but caught his eyes. His tiny, round, green eyes naked from those cheap, unattractive dollar store glasses he preferred. How was this the same person? Her same weird, chauvinist, dumbass coworker from this morning that, in a past life, had the same sex appeal as a bus fire?

She closed her eyes and gave him a French kiss, punctuated by his teeth pinching her bottom lip. She giggled wildly when he did and he let out a surprised "oh". She felt him pull away from her.

"What's wrong?" She asked, thinking he was hurt.

"Nothing," he panted with a toothy grin. "I almost came."

At first she was excited by the thought of his white hot jizz flooding her insides but then reality came in. "I don't have a condom."

But Dwight was already in the other room. She watched him dig into his pants' pocket and retrieve his wallet.

"Are you always this prepared?" She asked, hotly, as he reentered the bedroom.

Dwight smiled down at his dick while he put the condom on. "I'm always ready."

The sight of him rolling the paraphilic onto his long cock made her body ache. "How do you want me?" She asked when he got back into the bed.

"Get on the side of the bed."

She did as he said and sat on the edge of her mattress. She didn't have to wait long for Dwight's body to curl into her own, their limbs outlining each other like two different sized shadows. He maneuvered his penis in between her legs and once he was inside, did he start. He held her thighs down while he bucked into her with the intensity of a mechanical bull. The bounce from the mattress made when she did slam back into his cock the feel like he was getting deeper and deeper inside her with each move. She felt like she was in a marathon, she was panting so hard, she barely had time to moan, each time he fucked her she felt like her organs were going to explode. Then, somehow, his rhythm was faster and she wasn't just getting fucked anymore—she was climaxing soon.

She threw her head back into his, her cries of pleasure turning into squeals as her eyesight started to go and she felt the warm wave grow taller and taller as Dwight slammed harder and faster inside of her.

"I'm coming!" He grunted.

"DWIGHT!" She screamed. Crash. She came so hard she lost her eyesight for a moment, although she wouldn't have cared even if she was blind. All she knew was the gentle currents that was Dwight's movements became slower and slower.

Then, he stopped and suddenly the two of them were just two raw heaps of exhaustion.

"Three?" Dwight's voice asked.

"What?"

"Was that—your second or third…orgasm?" Dwight asked, in between pants.

Oh Dwight, you dog, she thought lustfully. The idea that Dwight knew what the female orgasm looked like sent her libido ablaze but her body was too raw for a second round. Thus, Pam stood up to release himself from her own, her vagina sounded like a bathtub being unplugged. "Third."

"Nice." Dwight said, more to himself than to her but Pam wasn't offended. She thought it was sweet he could tell. A lot of guys can't tell what a female orgasm looks like or just choose to ignore the fact that their partners didn't enjoy themselves at all.

"Wow." She let out, still huffing. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. 2:15am. "Crap. We have work in 7 hours."

There came a sobering silence.

"We should go to bed." She whispered.

"We should."

They climbed into bed and passed out in seconds with two small goodnights and their backs facing another.

5.

One blink later and Pam was jerked awake by the blares from her alarm clock. She slapped the alarm off without hitting snooze once. As she lied in bed, in an attempt to play the dangerous 'five more minutes' game, clips of last night's tryst popped up in her brain like internet ads. The harder she tried to block them, the greater they regenerated.

There was no way she could avoid what happened, even for five seconds. Last night, she had sex with Dwight Schrute. The ass kisser from work. The weirdest, douchiest, possibly on the spectrum guy she had ever met. The guy she pulled pranks, and helped others pull pranks on, almost daily for the last 3 years.

She fucked Dwight.

She looked over, expecting to see his sleeping body, but found the space beside her empty. _This motherfucker! If he thinks he can just_ —her angry thought was interrupted by the smell of coffee being brewed.

She turned to get out of bed to find a glass of water on her nightstand. She drank all of it, grateful to remedy her sandpapery mouth. Then she went to her dresser drawer in search of something easy to throw on when she looked down and saw a brown and red colored bruise on her right breast. She quickly grabbed an oversized tee and a pair of sweatpants before she wandered out of the bedroom in search for this self-making coffee.

Four steps out of the bedroom and she found Dwight, in his underwear, standing above her iron board as he meticulously ironed out his mustard work shirt.

"'Morning." He said, in a noncommittal tone.

"'Morning." She returned with the same casualness.

"Coffee's done."

She turned her head to see a full pot waiting for her. "Thanks." She grabbed a mug. "How long you been up?"

"6."

"That early."

"More like that late. I'm usually up by 4."

"Wow, every day?"

"When else are you going to collect the eggs and milk the goats?" He replied with his usual brand of abrupt know-it-all-ness.

Pam sighed into her mug, half relieved and half irritated. She was glad he wanted to pretend like nothing happened but part of her knew better than to ignore the elephant in the room.

"You should shower." Dwight said, speaking into his pants which he ironed with precision. "You smell and we only have an hour to get to work and god knows how long it'll take a cab to get here."

Pam wanted to fight the small talk and plunge straight into the awkward adult conversation. But instead, she took her coffee into the bathroom and drank the rest of it in craven solitude.

6.

They stood on the sidewalk waiting for the cab to come, in severed silence. Pam didn't make an attempt to catch his eye and Dwight's neck hadn't moved the entire time they stood together. It was awful and it would've continued to be awful, if Pam hadn't gotten bold out of nowhere.

"Listen," she said. "I know you don't wanna talk about this but we got to. And I'd rather do it now then sit across from each other at work for the next however many years and pretend like nothing happened."

Dwight had been staring at a point in space that only he, a tall person, could see with his usual scowl set across his face. After she spoke, the smug grin from last night returned.

"Can't get it out of your mind either huh?"

Pam balked, but then she smiled. "Screw you."

"You already did." Dwight retorted. "Pamela Beesley. Did not expect you to be so…passionate."

"Stop." She said, whacking him in the stomach with the back of her hand. "Now you listen: you can't tell Michael. Okay?"

Dwight balked. "I wasn't going to tell Michael."

"Dwight I swear if you tell Michael Scott…"

"I wasn't!" Dwight cried in sincerity which she recognized and let the issue drop. After a few seconds, Dwight asked, quietly, "Can I tell Jim?"

Pam whirled around and delivered one smack after another on his arms, stomach and chest. "You—cannot—tell—Jim!"

"Why not!" Dwight whined. "That would be the ultimate prank! Jim spends the last 3 years flirting with you but meanwhile his arch-nemesis seduces her all in a single night. C'mon, you can't tell me that wouldn't be hilarious."

"No it wouldn't Dwight!" Pam insisted, on the verge of tears. "And if you tell Jim, I'll go right to Angela and tell her what happened last night."

Her threat made Dwight stop. "You can't tell Angela! She'll never take me back if she found out I slept with you." Then adding, as if necessary, "She hates you."

"I know. And if Jim ever finds out we slept together, he'll never…" She stopped herself short.

For a moment, the two of them stared at the street ahead without speaking.

"I won't tell Jim." Dwight said, in a small voice.

Pam nodded, suddenly impatient for the cab to arrive. "Good."

"Are we still friends?" He asked and she knew from the tone in his voice this wasn't a boyish question of friendship. He was genuinely asking her for the status of their relationship. Were they still friends? Or did last night change that?

She looked him up and down, as if seeing him for the first time, and she thought about it.

"Do _you_ want to be friends?"

Dwight looked down into her eyes and all she saw was the same uncertainty.


End file.
